


I can't think of a title. I am sorry.

by GhastlyGhost



Series: Good Good neighbors (series) [8]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Other, nothing like... flirting with the general after they shoot someone, way to go x3-28! way to go!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 02:41:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhastlyGhost/pseuds/GhastlyGhost
Summary: Really, I just wanted to write a courser choking X3-28, but then it got some unexpected context when I had to think of how to not kill him. That context being the Minutemen and Institute remnants being hostile towards them, leading to the Minutemen sending allied units to take them out.





	I can't think of a title. I am sorry.

This was nothing new. The weight of another was on him, pushing him down, forcing him hard against the ground under him. It was a struggle he’d faced against previous more powerful targets. Though, this time he was the target. Yet, he was still the one on the floor, and this time it was hard to escape from. This was because the attacker was, in fact, a courser. There had been reports. Rogue units were targeting members of the Minutemen after their Institute takeover. It was concluded that the best way to approach this was to send allied courser units to pacify these threats. For the most part, it went well, though one-on-one fights were admittedly a bit of a toss up when it came to who would come out of it alive. This was especially the case when a unit had teamed up with raiders or other rogue units.

Hands strained around his neck, sending pain shooting through his skin. He struggled to breathe. While he was usually calm, he felt his heart beating wildly in his chest while his wide eyes locked onto the face of the unit assaulting him. Their eyes were wild, filled with rage. This unit wasn’t functioning as normal. This unit wasn’t efficient either. There were faster ways to kill him, but this was personal. Most any loyal courser unit saw him as a traitor who helped destroy their home along with the closest thing they had to family. They didn’t know what to do without the SRB issuing orders. A few of those who remained found themselves overcome with emotion that fogged their programming. Even so, they could very well succeed in the new mission to remove all ‘defective’ courser units, albeit sloppily. X3-28′s machete lay out of his reach, and his hands weren’t strong enough to pry himself free. Every passing second, his body had less oxygen to run on and he’d eventually go dormant, due to the mimicry of human life the Institute had built him to be. His vision slightly blurred. Pained grunts left him, come from failed attempts at deep breaths. Any tighter and it’d permanently damage his larynx.   
If making them let go wasn’t an option, he knew what was. Balling a fist, he readied himself to punch this unit as hard as he possibly could in the throat. The shock could possibly be enough for them to loosen their grip. Though, the plan never came to fruition. In his panic and with his diminished senses, he hadn’t noticed the approaching footsteps. Almost as soon as the distant movement registered to him, a bang rang through the alley and a cloud of red erupted from his assailant’s head. As the grip on his neck loosened and the other courser fell, he sucked in a wheezing breath. 

A familiar face came into view when his vision finally sharpened again, its owner pushing the heavy body from on top of him with brows furrowed in concern. Crouching down next to him, they gave him a look over, clearly trying to decide if a hands-on examination was required. “Are you alright?” they asked. 

X3-28 groaned, then answered, “I will be.” That answer wasn’t quite satisfactory and X3-28 knew it, but it was accepted with only the slightest trepidation. They got up and offered him a hand, which he declined. He tried to push himself up on his own strength, but it was a more difficult task than expected. All manner of aches radiated through his body, forcing a gasp out of him as he tensed and lowered back down to the ground. He finally pressed his hand into that of his companion, which they hadn’t retracted in the time it took for him to finally make the decision. The pain wasn’t any better than when he tried to get up on his own, but at least he was brought to his feet. “Thank you, General,” he rasped. That was met with a curt nod and them giving him back his machete.   
“I was about to wrestle that unit…" the general stated while X3-28 steadied himself and they patted dirt and other grime off of his uniform. 

A short and breathy laugh escaped X3-28, which quickly turned into coughing. "Bad plan, sir."   
"I realized that when I remembered I was holding a gun." 

They glanced at the body of the hostile unit, then turned back to him and looked him over once again, now trying to wipe the blood from his face. All it really did was wipe the spots out, but X3-28 made no attempt to move away. "I’m fine,” he assured, resting his hand on the general’s, though the aching of his body told a different story. There were going to be bruises as well as scabs. Lucky for him, any active bleeding was hidden under the armored coat he wore, so the general wouldn’t feel the need to bandage him up right then and there. They were well aware that one didn’t leave a fight with a courser no worse for wear, however, and took a moment before ceasing their assessment, stopping short of opening his coat. They moved their hands away and stepped towards one of the windows of a nearby building, in which lay the bodies of a few raiders the unit had been working with.

“Good job,” X3-28 noted when he looked down at the enemy unit that lay sprawled in a pool of their own blood. The skin of their face -the parts which hadn’t been blown to pieces- had cuts and fresh bruises on it from their struggle with X3-28. Their eyes were empty and cast ahead at nothing. It was a sight he’d grown used to, and a sight he was certain the general was used to as well. Though, he had only recently started seeing it more with destroyed… dead coursers. 

After contacting the other Minutemen through the radio on their uniform, they were ready to go. When the two of them left, on the way back to civilization, X3-28 leaned against the far shorter general for support, having difficulty with each step. Rather than stop and coddle him, they continued on at a steady pace. Whatever treatment he needed was better administered somewhere safer anyway. They were quiet for quite some time. The buildings they’d been fighting between were obscured and they were close to a Minutemen camp by the time they spoke again.

“I’m glad to feel you haven’t missed any meals." 

X3-28 turned his face toward the general, with furrowed brows. It was common knowledge among them that synths didn’t gain nor lose weight by eating. Any changes would have to be made artificially, much like the rest of their bodies. Though, they did eat, they didn’t really need to either. After that small bit of confusion, X3-28 concluded that it must have been a joke, and he brushed it off with a soft, "Would you like to feel more of it?" 

That won a chuckle. "Of your weight?" 

"In a more private setting." 

Another chuckle, louder this time, and a little flustered, ending with a hum. "Maybe." 

A light smile tugged at the corner of X3-28’s mouth. Maybe was good. Hard to plan for, but good. Better than a definite no. The rest of their response seemed positive, generally speaking. At least, X3-28 read it as such. The feel of it all was comfortable enough. “I should buy you drinks first.”

“I have enough drinks,” the general stated with a very modest smile. 

Amusement. He could keep going, then. The general did have enough drinks, but they rarely spent time with anyone when drinking, preferring to have one glass next to their work in private. “You want company with those drinks,” X3-28 noted.

“Presumptuous.” The general’s tone of voice was elevated, still carrying an obvious amusement.

“So, you rather I not visit you, then?” he asked, a little teasingly. A soft laugh escaped him. “I would like to share a drink with you, sir.”

“Eli…” the general sighed. This time, they had no smile. “At least call me by my name.”

Oh. Oh no. They sounded displeased. For a brief moment, X3-28 didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t fully unfamiliar with these things, but it hadn’t gotten any easier. In fact, the respect he had for the general only made it more difficult.. It was like his heart froze in his chest and his breath trapped in his lungs for a second. He turned his eyes away and considered. “Apologies… Lucius.” 

“It’s fine,” Lucius said. “I do want to know you more in a non-professional setting. However, now is hardly the time to discuss that.”

That, and they likely didn’t even know how to go about it. That was the case with many synths. No one was given a chance to be person. No one was allowed to make friends and family, or even to have hobbies. They were one of the few who managed to escape the Institute, but one always lived with fear if they had no memory wipe performed. Being an infiltration unit, they also were used to being anyone but themselves. All units had a lot to figure out about themselves now that the Institute was dealt with. He couldn’t say he’d figured himself out either. It was difficult, even with help from the Minutemen. 

Well, they could discuss this all once they were somewhere safer and longer after having taken a life. It was alarming how normal the latter had become for the both of them, but that was life in the wasteland. Right now, what was important was that X3-28 got treated, the unit they faced was identified, and they took stock of their supplies.  
X3-28 gave a small nod. “Of course.”


End file.
